


All Night Long

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: April and Amelia are both done with men (at least for the night). What happens when they find themselves alone together for the first time?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. This is much different than what I usually write, but it's just for fun. I don't want anyone coming at me with ship war nonsense. I'm not going to stop writing Japril. THIS WAS JUST FOR FUN! So, please enjoy :)

“Could you take Harriet tonight? That would really  _ help _ . Thanks.” 

I storm out of the supply closet, tears streaming down my cheeks, without bothering to turn around and see if Jackson follows. I don’t want him behind me; I wanted him in front of me, surrounding me, inside me - I wanted him to make me feel something. But he wanted to dig, to pick at me, to find a solution. While we were best friends, while we were married, he always wanted to find a damn solution - he loved fixing things.

He’s not going to fix me. No matter how many times he looks at me with those soft eyes, or says my name in the gentle way he always used to:  _ April _ . 

No, he can’t break me down like that. I wanted to numb myself; I won’t allow him to force me to feel.

Now knowing I don’t have the baby tonight, I can go out and kill the pain in the way I’ve been doing for weeks: with alcohol. I hadn’t planned on drinking tonight, nothing more than a glass of wine (or two) before bed, but that’s off the tbale. After being shoved into a spiral during trauma training and nudged into a whirlwind of memories that made me look at how shitty my life has become, I need a drink or twenty. 

The thing is, during the time of the famous ambulance story, I was being picked on. I was bullied then. I went home and cried myself to sleep a lot, nearly every night. I was still a virgin, had next to no experience with the male gender or myself, for that matter. I was a baby, and I thought my life sucked. Little did I know, it would only get shittier. 

There was an upward trend somewhere in the middle, though. I can’t say there wasn’t. Maybe that’s what makes the descent feel so much worse. 

I change out of my scrubs and into my everyday clothes - which consist of jeans and a dark purple cardigan - then head out of the hospital. I stop by and kiss Harriet in daycare, tell her Daddy will pick her up later, then walk to my car. I’m still on the verge of tears, though I’m not sure how I could possibly cry any more. I cry more in a day now than I used to in a month. And I wouldn’t call myself dry before, either. I can’t help it, when everything goes wrong at once. 

I drive by Joe’s and slow down, debating whether or not to go inside. I’ve been frequenting Joe’s much more often than I used to, and I have reason to believe he knows something is up. He’s begun to catch on because he sees my face so much, so I keep driving. I can’t afford someone sitting me down to try and be my life coach - I already avoided that once today. It was bad enough with Jackson, so I can’t imagine how awful it would be with a near-stranger.

I continue for a few miles until I get to a different bar, one I’ve only been to a few times. I know it well enough to find my way home later, but I’m not familiar with the people inside. It’s the perfect balance. I park the car and head inside after locking up, and I’m immediately comforted by the fact that my worries will be gone soon. 

I sit at the bar, lean forward on my elbows, and let out a long sigh after ordering a vodka stinger. As I wait for it, I scan the bar out of pure boredom and come across a face I recognize - Amelia Shepherd.

We make eye contact, which makes avoiding her for the rest of the night impossible. We’ve already seen each other and are fully aware of the other’s realization. I have no choice but to go over and say hi. Though I dread every step because I wanted to be alone tonight, I know it’s the right thing to do. I’m not a total bitch. 

“Hey,” I say, offering a smile. She was sitting just a few stools down from me, and there’s one open next to her. I don’t sit. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m staying. 

“Hi, April,” she says. She has a glass resting on a napkin at her side filled with clear liquid. “What brings you to this part of town?”

I debate lying, but then see no use for it. “I’ve been at Joe’s too much,” I say, laughing humorlessly. “He’s onto me.” 

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “I see.” 

I smile cordially, showing no teeth. I’m about to wish her a good night and go back to where I’d been sitting, when a stocky man passes way too close and skims a subtle hand over my ass. He tries to play it off like an accident, but I know better. 

“Hey!” I say, spinning on my heel. “Get your hands off me, you fucker!”

“Jesus, bitch,” he says, palms up. “It was an accident.” 

“Choke,” I say, and flip him off. 

When I turn back to Amelia, she’s laughing while wearing an impressed expression. “Damn, Kepner,” she says. “You _ are _ different, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, well,” I say, still eyeing the man as he walks away. 

“What brings you here, anyway?” she asks, turning to completely face me. 

“I told you,” I say. “No more Joe’s.” 

“No, no,” she says. “Not to this specific bar. But out drinking in general - alone, no less.” 

“I could ask the same thing of you,” I say, under my breath. 

“You could,” she laughs. “I’m only drinking Sprite, but I’m here ‘cause men ain’t shit.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Weren’t you and Owen having sex just today?” 

“Yeah,” she answers. “Then he up and left.” 

I shoot her a strange, confused look. 

“Like I said,” she finishes. “Ain’t shit. So, ‘fess up. What’s your reason for drinking alone?” 

I picture Jackson in the supply closet earlier, how he stood there begrudgingly before giving in and wrapping me up in his arms. How I expected the same to come of his kiss, but he turned me away instead. He’d tricked me - because he did kiss me back for a short moment. He led me on for a blink of an eye. And then, in typical Jackson fashion, pushed me off to the side. 

I pick up a shot of something that’s sitting on the bar and down it, saying, “Men ain’t shit.” 

Amelia laughs, and before long I’m sitting on the stool next to her. Though it wasn’t what I had planned, it’s not that bad. It’s kind of nice to have a friend to talk to, especially since we don’t dive beneath the surface. We mostly complain, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed and smiled so much. I want to know why we waited so long to do this. I haven’t felt this purely happy in weeks. 

Maybe I’ve been wrong to try and fill the void with male company, and should’ve been spending time with women instead. What good are men, anyway? They don’t understand anything.

Speaking of men, the same guy passes us a couple more times as the night progresses. On the third time, with his eyes cemented on us, I’ve had enough. 

I hop up from my stool with my glass in one hand and close the distance between us, not afraid of getting in his face.

“You see something you like?” I say, words smooth but tone venomous.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

I give him a slick little smile. 

“You wanna come home with me tonight, beautiful?” he asks. “I got a lot of dirty things I’d like to do to you.” 

I shake my head, raise my upper lip, and throw my drink in his face in one fell swoop. He stands there, gaping, and I don’t walk away quite yet.

“Fuck you,” I say. “Stop treating women like shit, and maybe you’ll be able to get your dick wet once in a while.” 

“April,” Amelia says, one hand on my upper arm. “Come on. We’re gonna get kicked out of here.” 

“I don’t give a shit,” I say. “He can’t treat women like that.”

“I know, and you showed him. Come on,” she says, giggly. “Let’s go.” 

She pulls me out of the bar, and when we hit the sidewalk we’re both laughing. “I tossed it in his face,” I say, dumbfounded. “I really can’t believe I just did that.” 

“I can’t either,” she says. “I like this side of you.” 

I shrug. “Me, too.” I look at my phone to see it’s barely 10. The night has only just begun. “Do you wanna come back to my place for a drink?” I ask her.

She agrees, and we head to my house. I switch the lights on once we get inside and she makes herself comfortable - kicking off her shoes and hanging her coat on the hook like she’s been here a thousand times. 

“Do you like red or white?” I ask, heading to the kitchen while she finds her way to the living room. 

“Neither,” she says, then laughs. “Addict, remember?” 

“Fuck,” I hiss, then call out, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” she says, and I hear the grin in her voice. “I’ll take water, if you have it.”

I smile to myself and pour a tall glass of red wien for myself, water for her, then bring over the drinks after taking my cardigan off. I sit on the couch next to her with one leg tucked under me and smile against the lip of my wine glass, making eye contact all the while. 

“What?” she says.

I shrug and giggle. “I don’t know,” I say. “Back at the bar. I still can’t believe I did that.” 

“I know,” she says. “I like your wild side.” 

“You said that already,” I say, taking a long sip. 

“It’s worth saying twice,” she adds, then licks her lower lip after taking a drink. 

We break eye contact as she looks around the room, surveying the space and soaking it in. Her eyes pause over Harriet’s copious amount of baby toys, her playpen, and the hoarde of pacifiers sitting on the coffee table. Hattie loses them all the time, so I always make sure to have backups. 

“So much baby stuff,” Amelia says, and her tone has changed considerably. 

I look at her eyes, which are duller now instead of glinting, and she wears a smile that doesn’t quite play its part. The corners of her lips are quivering, like it’s all she can do to keep that happy face on. I know for a fact she lost a baby, too, a while ago. I don’t know details, but there’s not much people don’t know about each other at the hospital. Word gets around fast. 

I don’t dare bring it up, though. Not now. It’s not the right time. 

“Tom said the same thing,” I say, and her eyes flick to me with recognition of the name. “Koracick, yeah. We fucked.” 

She laughs incredulously, saying, “You did not.” 

“Yeah, we did,” I say. “And he was going on and on about all of Harriet’s stuff. Saying I’m not the same person you trusted as your power of attorney or whatever.” I shrug, writing it off. “He got a little too deep for me.” 

“Yeah, he tends to do that,” Amelia says. “He makes it seem like he just wants to get you in bed, then he hits you with the hard shit. It’s fucking annoying.” 

I chuckle. “See, you get it.” 

“Of course I do,” she says. “I fucked him, too.” 

“Seriously?” I say, genuinely surprised. That was something I’d never heard before. 

She nods. “Yeah,” she says. “He was fine. I’d even say he was good. It wasn’t like we were all that intimate - it was always so quick. He never went down on me or anything.” 

“Oh,” I say, eyebrows raised. “We did that.” 

“Was he any good?” she asks.

I shrug and tip my hand side to side. “So-so,” I say. 

“Who’re you comparing it to?” she asks, interest piqued. 

I roll my eyes. “Jackson,” I say. “Of course.”

“And  _ he _ was good?” she says, egging me on. 

At first, I debate putting up a wall and turning private. But then I nix that idea and throw it to the wind, deciding to fuck it all. Who cares what she knows? Who cares what’s private and what’s not? 

“Jackson was amazing,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Tom, against him? No. No comparison.” 

“How about Vik Roy?” she prompts. “The intern.” 

My eyes widen. “Shut up,” I say. “You don’t know about that.” 

“Oh, honey,” she says, conspiratorially. “Everyone knows about it. He made sure of that.” 

“Shit,” I say, but I’m not too bothered. I figured it would get out eventually. “He didn’t even try. He didn’t know how to work his dick, let alone his tongue.”

“That’s the thing about men,” Amelia says. “They talk such a big game. Oh, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, baby. I’ll hit it just right. Then you get ‘em in bed and they last about forty seconds and leave you with your hand when they roll over and go to sleep.” 

I burst out laughing, doubling at the waist with my eyes pinched closed. 

“Am I wrong, though?” she says, laughing too. “Am I?” 

“I mean!” I say. “I don’t know. Jackson was always… very generous. I bossed Vik around, he had no choice but to last. And Tom, well, he was fine enough. He was pretty good at everything, except for-” 

“The man is a horrible kisser,” she finishes. 

“Yes!” I say, then slug the rest of my wine. “He was so awful, oh my god.”

“I would always lead the whole thing,” she says. “Not to brag, but I know what I’m doing. He had no idea where to put anything. His tongue, god. Don’t get me started.” 

“He drooled all over me,” I say, eyes involuntarily moving to her lips for a split second. “He-”

“You looked at my mouth,” she says, bemused. Her eyes show it. 

I don’t bother denying it, either. I did, and I felt myself do it. 

“Sorry,” I say, licking my lips and trying to force my eyes anywhere else. The air in the room has changed, and I can’t quite put my finger on how or why.

“Don’t apologize,” she says, then inches closer, leaning into me. “Does that mean you wanna kiss me?” 

“Amelia,” I say, blushing a bit. I can’t remember the last time I blushed. I don’t negate her question, though. I don’t have the space to, and I can’t lie. 

“I haven’t kissed a girl in a while,” she says. “But it’s probably just like riding a bike.” 

I’m not sure what’s happening. My mind is a tiny bit cloudy with wine, but not enough to where I could be imagining this - imagining her hand on my knee, her minty breath in the air around my face. 

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine,” she says. “If I misread the situation, forgive me. But I promise, I’m better than Tom.” 

I bite my lower lip and force my eyes back on hers. “I am, too,” I say, voice low and soft. 

“You wanna let me be the judge of that?” she says, coming even closer. 

I figure I have nothing to lose. I nod, just slightly, as my pulse quickens. 

“You ever kissed a woman before?” she asks. I shake my head no, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, carefully touching the sides of my neck with her thumbs. “Okay. I’ll be gentle with you.”

I smirk and blink slowly, feeling more drunk than I actually am. “Okay,” I say, and she takes my face in her hands to bring us together. 

The feeling of her lips on mine is something I’m very unused to. I’m not accustomed to the softness of her skin, the perfume on her neck, or the flowery scent of her hair. I’m used to stubbly cheeks, rough fingers and dominant tongues, but with her, it’s different. She still takes the lead, but she leaves room for me, too. Instead of forcing me to follow blindly, we move in tandem with one another.

She tastes good, like mint, when she opens her mouth. I can’t help but wonder if I taste like wine, and if she likes or hates it. When her tongue slips against mine, I make the softest of sounds in my throat, and tilt my head further, bringing my hands to her waist as hers remain on the sides of my neck. She threads her fingers through my hair and combs it away from my face, and that sensation sends tingles up my spine that soon migrate throughout my entire body. 

We come up for air, but don’t stay separated for long. Only long enough to look into each other’s eyes and smile, then go back for more.

She drags her teeth over my lower lip, sucking on it for a slow second before moving to kiss my chin. I tip my head up to give her more access and she opens her mouth wide on my neck, right over my pulse point, and drapes her arms around me as she does. I pitch forward and hold desperately to her waist, fingers digging in as she leaves a trail of wet kisses down to the sleeve of my tank top and bare shoulder.

“You taste sweet,” she says, gathering my hair into a ponytail so she can more easily kiss behind my ear. 

“Thanks,” I breathe, face turned up towards the ceiling. 

“Does it feel good?” she asks, voice lilting as she sucks on the slope between my shoulder and neck. 

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, it does.” 

“Good,” she says. “Want me to keep going?” 

“Please,” I say, too lost in my own pleasure to answer any differently. 

She’s paying attention to me in a way no one else has. I’ve slept with other people, we’ve fucked, but they didn’t shower me with affection like this. This makes me feel emotions a thousand times stronger.  

“I thought you’d like it,” she whispers, lips moving against the shell of my ear before taking the lobe between her teeth. My core tightens when she lets it go, and I press my lips together to quell the insistent moan that begs to escape.

Her lips find mine again and the kisses get sloppier. She pulls away for a moment only to flop back against the cushion and turn her head, then she takes me by the waist to direct me onto her lap.

“There,” she says, skimming my waist. The material of my tank top bunches at the sides and she looks me up and down, centering on my chest and the strip of skin of my belly that shows. 

Surprising us both, I whip off my shirt. I’m left in a demi-cut black bra with a tiny satin bow in the middle, red curls falling down my back with abandon. I know my chest must be flushed with arousal and excitement, but I don’t care. I’m not thinking clearly, and I want this. Connection is all I’ve wanted since the beginning of my breakdown, and this is the strongest I’ve felt it yet. 

“Jesus, April,” she says, then grips my ribcage. “You’re sexy.” 

I smile breathlessly, bending my knees further to rest my weight on her thighs. I loop my arms around her neck and angle my head against hers, drowning us both in a heavy, heated kiss where I press my naked torso against her clothed one and grind my hips against the air. I want friction, but I’m not sure how to get it. 

“Mmm,” I moan, when she grabs my right breast with a firm hand.

She holds tight, rubbing her thumb insistently over the nipple, then moves her other hand to hold the left side, too. I unravel my hands from her hair to overlap her hands, pushing them against me further, and let out a hot sigh against her lips.

She moves lower to my chest, peppering kisses along the plane of my sternum, the soft divot between my collarbones, and over the swells of my breasts that spill over my bra. She pushes from below, creating more cleavage, and licks a wide path up the middle. I clench my thighs around her legs and she notices, because her eyes flash when I do it. 

Taking the cue, I unsnap my bra and toss it behind me. Responding to my action, she pulls off her shirt and doesn’t waste time with her bra, either - soon, that goes, too. 

It doesn’t feel right for her to be paying all this attention to me and I’ve barely done anything. So, even though my stomach is jumping with nerves and I’ve never done it before, I use my shaky hands to cup her breasts and squeeze wholeheartedly. 

Her eyelashes flutter as she looks at me, eyes swimming. 

“Is this okay?” I ask, and notice her nipples begin to harden just like mine have. 

“Perfect,” she says, then yanks me closer by the small of my back so our naked chests are flush together. 

I’ve been naked with a man plenty of times - pressed against a hot, flat chest in more instances than I can count. This is so different, her breasts flattened against mine, heartbeat against heartbeat, pulse hammering between our thighs. 

It’s not enough, though. I want more, to make her feel more. So, I curve my spine forward and kiss her chest, over the swell of her breast until I get to the puckered, pink bud in the middle. I don’t hesitate before pulling it into my mouth and sucking hard, just like I used to do for Jackson. That was one of his weaknesses - a secret that stayed locked inside our bedroom.

When I do it to Amelia, she palms the back of my head and digs her nails in sharply. I drag my bottom teeth over the round of her breast and draw circles around the nipple with my tongue, pulling away and taking a string of saliva with me. I feel her heart under my mouth when I go for the other breast, and she drags her fingernails down my back as I become more and more aroused. I’m soaking wet at this point, I easily feel how damp my underwear are. 

If I was having sex with a man, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out what comes next. If it were Jackson, he’d toss me down, get me on my hands and knees, and fuck me doggy style with a hand pressed to the middle of my back. Eating out came after - he liked to clean us both off my thighs with his tongue. If it were Vik, I’d spend fifteen minutes convincing him to wear a condom, then guiding him inside me. With Tom, he’d lower me onto my back and do me missionary style, face tucked into my neck the whole time. 

But Amelia obviously doesn’t have a dick, so I’m not sure of the next step. I should be enjoying the moment, I know this, but it’s hard not to anticipate the future. Am I going to come tonight? I went into this hoping for an orgasm. As soon as she kissed me, that became my end goal. I don’t know how I plan on getting one, though. I’ve never done this before. 

I’m overthinking. I need to stop. It’s taking me out of the moment, and I can’t have that. 

Almost as if she reads my mind, though, she slips one of her hands around front and expertly undoes the button of my jeans. She slips inside and cups that hand over my underwear, stroking my outer lips with two confident, graceful fingers. 

I can’t help but buck against her - totally involuntarily. Our lips break apart and she smiles, then turns to speak right into my ear - saying, “Take off your pants and lay back.” 

I don’t ask questions, and I definitely don’t waste time. I stand up and shimmy out of my jeans, then stand in front of her in a pair of blue underwear with a wet patch on the crotch. 

“Those too,” she says, eyeing me. “They’re wet, anyway.” 

I fight a smirk and a blush, then step out of them. Even just the thought of being naked in front of someone other than Jackson used to give me anxiety, but now it’s not a big deal. I see my body as something differently - something less treasured. The sanctity of sex has gone out the window - at least, sex with a specific person. Sex in itself has never been holier to me. It takes me out of my current situation, my current headspace, and nothing is more godly than that. 

I lie with my arms above my head, completely naked, and watch her get situated between my thighs. She parts them with both hands and lies on her stomach, throwing me a suggestive look before kissing my pubic bone and going lower. 

She was right - she is better than Tom. She keeps her eyes closed as she moves her mouth between my legs, dips her tongue inside me, and runs a flat tongue over my clit until my back arches from the cushions and forces my hips flush against her face. 

She chuckles and forces them back down, making filthy, wet sounds against my core. She pushes three fingers inside me while her mouth continues to work, dragging them forward to touch my g-spot, and that motion combined with her tongue on my clit drives me absolutely wild. 

I reach to pull her hair - hair longer than any I’ve ever had to grab onto - and I pull hard. It only makes her go at me with more voracity, jaw opening wider as her nails dig into my thighs, and she doesn’t stop sucking on my clit even as I start to come. I twitch erratically, my whole body experiencing aftershocks, and jerk against her persistent mouth. Once it’s over, she skims a flat hand between my thighs and runs it up my stomach between my breasts, then glides her thumb over my lower lip. 

“How was it?” she asks. 

“Great,” I say, still trying to catch my breath. 

“I made you come, didn’t I?” she says.

“So great,” I sigh, eyes fluttering closed. 

I know what this means now - it’s time to reciprocate. As I sit up, I’m nervous not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t have a clue in hell what I’m doing. I’ve given plenty of blowjobs, but this will be my first time going down on a woman. 

I’m sure she can sense it. Her eyes tell me as much while she takes off her pants and sits on the edge of the couch, knees spread wide. I take my place on the floor between them, hands on her thighs, eyes seeking guidance. 

“I’ll tell you what I like and what I don’t,” she says, as I get closer. “You’ll get the hang of it. There’s no wrong way.” 

I bite my lower lip and lick it, and she runs a hand through my hair for comfort. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says. “If you want to stop, if you’re uncomfortable-” 

“I wanna try,” I say. “I just don’t want to be shit.” 

“You’ll be fine,” she says. “You know your body, which will help you know mine. We have the same parts. I like slow tongue, quick fingers.” 

“Okay,” I whisper, and she bends at the waist to give me a hot, languid kiss. 

After we pull away, I push apart her thighs and bury myself between them. Her back falls against the couch as I try and navigate her body, pushing apart her folds to slip in two fingers first. She’s tight, and warmer than I imagined. I open my mouth wide to try and find her clit, sucking on her outer lips slowly as I go, and pull on the skin of her lower belly to expose the pink inside. It doesn’t take me long after that to locate what I’m looking for. 

I do as she says - quick and slow. It’s incredibly empowering to hear her moan and whimper, knowing I put her in that state - Amelia, who’s always so put together, has been reduced to whines and sighs at my mercy. 

When she comes, it feels amazing. Her muscles tighten around my fingers and her whole body writhes and arches away from the couch, slamming her hips against my face. She grabs my hands and intertwines our fingers, then pulls me onto her lap as she’s still coming down. 

She grabs my ass, forces me forward, and we kiss for a long time. She winds her hands through my hair and gives me hickeys on my neck that will last for days. With red and puffy lips, we lie face-to-face on the couch and tangle our legs together - my core right against her thigh and hers against mine. I feel her pulse in the most intimate part of her body, and it keeps the blood rushing hot and bothered through my veins.

I can’t help but think about earlier, though, when her expression changed as she noticed the baby things. I feel more connected to her now than I ever have, and I wonder if it’s something we should talk about. We both have that shared experience, felt that same heartache. What better person to relate to other than her? We connected physically; it seems like the perfect time to do so emotionally. 

“Amelia,” I say, draping an arm over her waist as she gently presses her lips to mine.

“Hmm…” she murmurs, still kissing me. 

“Earlier,” I say, tilting my head so she has better access to my jaw. “When you saw all of Harriet’s things. I know it…” I sigh, stop talking, and start again. “I think you and I have more in common than we think.” 

By the way her breath hitches, I know she realizes what I’m talking about. She doesn’t respond, though, not at first. Instead, she keeps her mouth on me and starts to move her hips rhythmically against my leg, stronger as the moments pass. 

“Mmm, come on, baby,” she says, sitting. I watch her from where I’m lying as she situates my legs, placing herself between them with one ankle over her shoulder. She rocks her hips against mine and my eyes shoot open from the friction alone. “Let’s go again.” 

She bends our bodies so she can kiss me, and I let her. I open my mouth and allow her tongue inside, at the same time allowing the subject to drop. Masking emotions with sex is something I’ve become very good at, and if she doesn’t want to talk - I’ll gladly do it all night long. 


	2. Chapter 2

“April, can I talk to you for a second?” 

I look up and pause what I’m writing, sliding my pencil into the the clipboard as Jackson comes closer. The last time we saw each other in the hospital didn’t end on the greatest note, but during our handoffs with Harriet, things haven’t been weird. He’s always very polite and cordial with me, and I him. It’s not often we delve beneath the surface, but the look on his face tells me that’s about to change.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, and set my stuff down on a nearby counter. I look at him, prompting with my eyes, but he just gives me a strange, loaded look in return. 

“Not here,” he says. “I was hoping maybe, someplace private?” 

“Oh,” I say. “Uh, why?” 

He looks left and right, almost as if he’s checking to see if anyone is around. “It’s not exactly something other people should hear,” he says. “It’s personal.” 

“Okay…” I say, thoroughly confused. I follow him into the nearest on-call room and he locks the door behind us, which admittedly ignites a reaction in my gut. We’ve been in this position many times before, but it definitely not something I expected today. “Jackson,” I say, eyeing the door. My hands poise at the hem of my scrub top; if he wants to, I’m in. I’m not about to turn him down. “Are you asking if I want to…? 

“No,” he says, eyes wide as I’ve already lifted my shirt a bit. I force it down after he answers, though, embarrassed that my mind went there first. “No, no. That’s not… no.” 

“Why are we here, then?” I snap, suddenly defensive. Now, I feel stupid. 

He sighs, long and deep. He raises his eyebrows and clears his throat, too; it seems like he’s very uncomfortable with whatever he’s about to say, and he’s having a hard time getting it out. 

“Jackson, what?” I prompt again. I cross my arms and close myself off, shifting my weight over to one hip. “I have work to do, you know.” 

Then, he just blurts it out. “Did you and Amelia fuck?” he asks. 

I stare at him, wide-eyed and shocked, unable to respond for a long moment. “Excuse me?” I say, my voice high with disbelief.

“April,” he says, and his voice stays even. It’s his ‘stay calm and don’t freak out’ voice that he used to use on me when I got too heated. “You and Amelia, did you sleep together?” 

“You have no right to ask me that,” I say, and a bad taste appears in my mouth. “I don’t… you… I don’t have to answer that.” 

“I just wanted to get to the source,” he says. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

He sighs and looks out the window for a minute. “I heard Amelia telling Meredith about it. Just bits and pieces, but it was enough to discern what she was saying. I heard your name, and she was talking about how much she…” He clears his throat again, now visibly uncomfortable. “How much she enjoyed, um, being with you. And by the way she said it, I could tell she meant more than just hanging out.” 

“What does it matter to you?” I say. “You and I aren’t together. I can do what I want. I’m a grown woman.”

“I know,” he says. “I know you’re grown, believe me.” He meets my eyes then. “I just want to make sure this is something you want. And not something you’ll regret.” 

“Oh, Jackson, come on,” I say. “You’re Harriet’s father, not mine. You don’t need to concern yourself with my sex life just because it involves people that aren’t you.” 

“That’s not…” he says, shaking his head. “I’m worried about you, April.” 

“You’ve said that already, a few days ago,” I point out. “You didn’t want to help me then, so-”

“I do want to help you!” he exclaims. “‘Helping’ doesn’t consist of making out with you in a supply closet. ‘Helping’ doesn’t consist of a pity fuck, which I think is what you were going for that day-” 

“And you wonder why I don’t come to you,” I say, throwing my arms up and letting them fall back down to hit my hips. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” he says. “Sweetheart, I know you better than anyone else does. I just want to-” 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I say, voice very low. “So, don’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he has the gall to sound wounded. A long pause sits between us before he says, “Why did you do it? Sleep with her?”

I furrow my eyebrows and let my eyes drift to his face, and when I do, I see that he’s hurt. I see it in his expression; he looks like he’s been punched in the gut five times over. It was me who did that to him, and now I have to sit with the guilt, warranted or not. 

“Because…” I say, shaking my head. “She listened to me? She made me feel safe, and she looked at me like I was an actual person. Not some crazy ass. She treated me like an equal, and she understood my pain.” 

“I understand your pain,” he claims. 

I press my lips together softly, frowning. “I don’t think you do,” I say, quietly. 

That doesn’t sit well with him. He’s used to being my person, no matter the status of our relationship. He’s used to being the one I run to, the one I seek solace in. And because that is not the role he plays at the current moment, I think it’s sent him in a tailspin of sorts. 

That’s not my fault, though. I can’t always be the one trying to patch things up and make things better. I can’t always be the fixer. Sometimes, I’m the one who needs to be fixed.

“So, what,” he says. “Are you a lesbian now? Is that what this is?” 

I squint hard, narrowing my eyes with a raised lip. “I don’t know,” I say. “And I don’t think I owe you that answer. You can’t just ask me that.” 

“It’s only a question,” he says. “You’ve never been with a woman before, and you never said anything about it while we were together.” 

“Well, I don’t know,” I say, shrugging quickly. “I don’t know much of anything except that I’m sad, and being with Amelia made me happy. I hadn’t felt that in a long time, and it’s been hard to find lately. So, excuse me if it doesn’t fit your standards.”

He shoves his hands into his lab coat pockets, shoulders hunched by his ears. I watch him blink towards the floor and wait for him to say something, but when he finally does, it’s definitely not what I expected.

“So, I didn’t make you happy,” he says.

I let a out breath from my nose. “That’s not what it’s about,” I say. “Not everything is about you, Jackson, okay? Or about our relationship. I’m focusing… I’m trying to focus on  _ me _ for once.” 

“Right,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Well, good for you. I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

“Jackson,” I say, as he turns to leave. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “Just wanted to clear things up. They’re pretty clear now. Thanks.” 

He leaves and suddenly, I’m alone in a quiet, dark on-call room. I stand there for a while, turning over what just happened, and can’t ignore the empty feeling in my heart. I don’t want to be by myself anymore, I want to be with someone who makes me feel whole. That person used to be Jackson, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t fill those shoes anymore. The best person I can think of is Amelia, so I leave the room in hopes to find her. I need to talk to her, or at least see her. 

I come across her behind three computer monitors while someone is getting a CT in the room behind the glass. She looks concentrated and cute studying the screens, and she sees me before I think she does. 

“Hey there,” she says, without looking up. “Wanna come in?”

A smile blooms on my face involuntarily as I take a few steps forward and sit down next to her. For a moment I just breathe, already soothed by being in her vicinity. The air isn’t quite so electric, my stomach doesn’t churn, I feel more at peace than I have all day. 

I’m surprised at the fact that I’m able to find such comfort in her. Before a few nights ago, we were barely friends. We were polite in the halls and civil to one another, friendly but not close. And now, everything is different. I feel like I’ve found a piece of home in her. 

“Hi,” I say, folding my hands on the table. 

“Hey,” she says, finally looking over. Her eyes are welcoming, and by looking in them I feel wrapped up in a warm blanket. “What’s going on?” 

I tip my head to the side. “What do you mean?”

She makes a vague gesture with her hand around my face. “Something’s going on here.”

I let out an incredulous-sounding breath and laugh humorlessly. “How’d you know?”

“It’s all on your face,” she says, then turns back to the screens. “Wanna talk?” 

I rest my head on my arms, leaning forward in the rolling chair. I blink at the monitors and read the brain scans without really taking in any information, then decide to just spill it. 

“Jackson overheard you telling Meredith about… what happened,” I say. 

I watch her facial expression change before she looks over at me again. “Oh, god, April,” she says. “I am so sorry. I never meant for anyone to hear that.” 

“I know,” I say. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not,” she says. “I only told Meredith because she’s my sister, and I wanted to talk about how amazing it…  _ you _ made me feel.” She laughs softly. “I was kinda gushing, I guess. But I really didn’t mean for… I didn’t even see Jackson around.” 

“He tends to lurk,” I mutter. 

“Well, I’m still sorry,” she says. “That was my fault; I should’ve been more careful.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine, really,” I say. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shrug. “It’s the whole thing.” 

“What do you mean, the whole thing?” 

I shrug again, seemingly incapable of putting my thoughts into words. “I don’t know,” I say, and it’s the truth. I don’t know a single thing about what’s going on right now, externally or internally. Everything feels wrong. And even when I’m with Amelia and it feels right, something inside tells me it  _ should _ feel wrong. But it doesn’t. What does that mean? 

“Here,” Amelia says, swiveling her chair to look my way. “How about this. You and me, tonight, my place. All the chocolate fondue we can eat. You bring the strawberries.” 

A small smile sneaks onto my face, the first one all day. “That sounds really nice,” I say.

“Be there at 8,” she says. “We’ll have fun.” 

…

I don’t know why I’m nervous as I walk up the front path to Amelia’s house, but I am. It’s mixed with excitement, too. It’s a good feeling - one of looking forward to something, and I haven’t experienced that in a while. It’s light and airy, unlike everything else in my life.

When Amelia answers the door, she’s wearing jeans and a soft, long-sleeved shirt with stripes. I smile and hold up the carton of strawberries, and she mirrors my expression before welcoming me inside. 

“You’re right on time,” she says. “Here, I’ll take those and wash them up. Then we can dig in, the fondue’s ready.” 

“It looks so good,” I say, standing in the entryway. There’s a little fountain of chocolate on the coffee table in the living room, and pillows on the carpet where I assume we’ll sit. 

“I know, right?” she says, standing at the sink. “Go ahead and take your shoes off. Sit down! Make yourself at home. I’ll be right there.”

I do as she suggests and make myself comfortable with my elbows on the low coffee table. I watch as she comes over, hair bouncing while she walks, and prop myself up a bit when she cracks open the lid of the plastic container. 

“Sorry, I don’t have those long forks,” she says. “We’re just gonna have to use our hands.” 

“That’s alright,” I say, then dig in. I take the first strawberry and dunk it under the chocolate, then pop it in my mouth. I bite the fruit off slowly, licking my lips for any stray chocolate, then giggle when Amelia catches my eye. “Messy,” I say, mouth half-full. 

“You’re cute,” she comments, and I feel myself blush because of it. 

I don’t have much to say, I just shrug bashfully. Suddenly, I’m at a loss for words. I don’t want to say the wrong thing or cross any boundaries that I shouldn’t.

“So, what was going on earlier?” she asks, a bit later.

“Um…” I say, forehead creasing a bit. “It was Jackson.” 

“Right,” she says. “But what’d he say?” 

I sigh, nonchalantly taking another strawberry and swirling it under the chocolate until it’s completely covered. “He…” I begin, trying to figure out an answer. “He always wants me too late.”

“What do you mean?” she says. 

“You know,” I say. “He takes me for granted. He pushes me away, keeps me at a distance while I fight against it. I think he likes it when I chase after him, because I don’t think he likes being in that position for me. I think it makes him feel like a man when I’m the one pining. But the minute I stop, he wants me. Earlier, he was trying to get me to talk to him like he hasn’t been distant since I moved out.” I plunk my chin down in my open palms as I lick the chocolate from my teeth. “I’m just tired of that same push and pull. It’s not fair to me, and it’s old.” 

“So, what you’re saying,” she reiterates. “Is that as soon as your attention is on someone else, he comes running?”

I nod. “Exactly.” 

Her expression looks thoughtful and interested. I wonder what she could be thinking about. “So…” she trails off. “ _ Is _ your attention on someone else?” 

Surprised by her tone, I fumble for another strawberry and end up dropping it - it keeps slipping out of my fingers and sliding out of reach. Before I can say anything, though, Amelia reaches and grabs the fruit, dips it under the chocolate, and offers it to me. 

“Go ahead,” she says, urging me along.

I lean forward and close my lips around the strawberry, feeling the warm chocolate coat my lips as she doesn’t let go. I bite down slowly, taking her fingertips subtly into my mouth, and suck the fruit away from the stem. She keeps her hand right where it is and watches me intently, and as I’m chewing, she swipes my cheek with her thumb assumedly to clean a droplet of chocolate off. 

“Open,” she says, and I obey. 

I part my lips and she pushes her thumb inside, deeper than it needs to go, and I suck on it dutifully. I used to suck on Jackson’s fingers while he was inside me, and he loved it. I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same. 

“Is your attention on someone else?” she asks again, and my core pulses. Shit. Of course, the thought of tonight ending there crossed my mind, but I didn’t come here expecting it. Now, I’m turned on and I want her. I want her so bad I can’t think straight. 

“Yes,” I say, then swallow hard. I know there’s still chocolate on my lips, but I don’t do anything to fix it. “You make me happy. Being with you… it makes me really happy.” 

She smiles then, big and bright. I can’t help but mimic the action, she’s just that contagious. She pushes away from the coffee table and crawls over on her hands and knees, and I rest my weight back on my hands with my legs bent, watching her with intense fascination. Like last time, I let her take control. I’m dying to know what she’ll do to me.

“You make me happy, too,” she says. 

“Is that why you told Meredith about what we did?” I ask, and she gets me flat on the floor with her body hovering over mine. 

She nods, grazing the tip of my nose with hers. “Did you like that I told her?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” I breathe, unsure of what to do with my hands. 

I’m still so new at this. I don’t know how experienced she is with being with a woman, but I assume she knows than I do. I don’t want to do something clumsy, touch her wrong, or seem stupid. I know exactly how to touch a man - they’re simple. She’s much more complicated. My brain is going a thousand miles per hour, and I wish it would just shut off.

“Good,” she says, then kisses me. Hard. 

She doesn’t rush, though. Our lips move together slow and fluid, and when her tongue touches mine, I can taste chocolate. I smile against her mouth and wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her closer, and at the same time, we open our mouths and breathe each other’s air.

“You taste good,” I whisper, burying my fingers in her hair. “Really good.” 

“Same as you,” she says. “Chocolate. You think I didn’t do that on purpose?” 

“You did?” I ask, gasping as she dips her head lower and presses her lips to my neck. I let my eyes flutter closed while she sucks on my throat, running her tongue in lazy, loopy patterns all over the skin. It feels amazing - what she’s doing to me is amazing. 

“Mm-hmm,” she says, as one of her hands finds my left breast. She squeezes hard, with purpose, and massages it with intent. Her lips move to the open skin above the V-neck of my shirt, and she nips small sections in her teeth with my breast still in her hand. 

“Hold on,” I say, then tear my shirt over my head. Then, I’m lying beneath her in just a pearl pink bra and jeans, and judging by the look in her eyes, she likes it very much. 

“You’re beautiful,” she says, kissing lower. She opens her mouth and breathes hotly onto the swells of my breasts, and all I can do is lie there and watch her. I feel a little bit like I did last time when I let her do all the work, but I’m too overcome with sensation to do much about it. “I mean that. You are really beautiful.” 

“So are you,” I breathe, watching her drop slow kisses all over my belly. She runs the tip of her tongue along my C-section scar and I twitch like mad, hips moving of their own accord. That skin is pink and extremely sensitive, and her tongue feels otherworldly on it. After I got that scar, Jackson and I weren’t having intimate sex anymore. We were emergency-fucking in the middle of the night, so I’m not sure he ever noticed it. But, of course, leave it to Amelia to do as much. 

“You’re strong, too,” she says, lips moving against my bellybutton. “And brave.” 

Tears prick at the edges of my eyes, but I will them away. I refuse to cry during sex - I don’t do that anymore. I’m enjoying this too much to cry, anyway. 

“Take off your bra, babe,” she says, and I comply. I get the bra off and cast it aside, and she makes her way up my torso to capture a nipple in her mouth. She runs her tongue over it and sucks hard, hollowing out her cheeks as almost my entire breast disappears into her mouth. 

“Jesus,” I hiss, holding her head.

She takes the other breast in her hand and thumbs the nipple until it rises - almost to the point of pain. I arch my back and strain as she sucks on me, eyes closed, in total bliss. I can’t help but get off on the fact that she likes this as much as I do. 

She pulls off with a loud popping sound and my breast is left shiny with saliva. There are red welts around the nipple that I’m sure will turn into hickeys, and I don’t care. I want them - I want proof, if only for myself.

Amelia moves to the underside and bites at the supple skin, licking the round of it before trailing her fingernail up to my areola. She stops at my nipple, makes steady eye contact, then blows cool air in a steady stream. Since the skin was already wet, the air makes it even colder and it pebbles up and peaks as hard as it’s ever been. 

“Fuck,” I whimper, as she moves lower and bites at my ribcage with hurried intensity. She takes each of my breasts and twists them a little, and I yelp as the shock of pain surprises me. 

My hips have begun to move on their own, my thighs clenching one of hers between them to try and get some much-needed friction. She laughs against my stomach and sneaks one hand lower to cup my center, rubbing her palm against me in the rhythm I’d been rubbing her with. 

“You hot for me?” she asks, smirking. I nod. “How hot?”

“So turned on,” I say, panting. 

“Let’s see…” she says, then unbuttons my jeans with one hand before slipping down the front of my underwear. She cups me again and smiles, rubbing her hand tantalizingly slow while I fight the urge to try and fuck her hand. My eyes roll back as my eyelashes flutter, and while my eyelids are closed, she leans forward and bites a path along my jaw until she makes it to my lips. “I have something to show you…” she says. “I wanna play with you.” 

“Okay,” I whisper, and she removes her hand. While standing up, she sticks one finger in her mouth and sucks off my arousal, and I practically melt into a puddle. 

“Be right back.”

I wait on the floor, half-naked and ready, until she returns. She’s only in her underwear and bra when I see her again, and I sit up because it looks like she wants to ask me something. I lean against the couch with my knees to my chest, and she watches me with amusement. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, stepping closer.

“I… yeah,” I say, like it’s obvious. “I thought we… yeah.” 

“Do you want a dick in you?” she asks, closer still. 

I furrow my eyebrows. “I… I want you,” I say. “I want you to make me feel good, and I’ll do the same for you. I can be better than last time.”

“You didn’t answer me,” she says, then pulls something from around her back. It’s a dildo-looking thing attached to a black harness that I assume will go around her waist if I answer affirmatively. “Do you want a dick in you?”

“Oh,” I say, and keep my wide eyes on it. It’s blue and translucent, about as big as Jackson’s. Maybe a little veinier, but I assume that’s for production value. I take my time studying it before lifting my gaze back to hers and saying, “Yes.” 

“Good,” she says, then jerks her head. “Get naked, then.” 

I raise my eyebrows at her bossiness, but she doesn’t falter. She does smile a bit, but she doesn’t break with a laugh or let me know she’s kidding. She’s really going to put that thing inside me. 

So, I strip off my jeans and underwear while she strips the rest of the way and puts on that contraption. I climb onto the couch and sit against the back, and she comes to straddle my hips and pin me down, wrists on the back cushions. Then, she kisses me with such ferocity that when she pulls away, it takes a moment to catch my breath. 

She slips her hand between my thighs and rubs my skin, slipping inside just a bit. She nudges my clit with the pads of her fingers, and when I jolt upward, she grins with satisfaction and kisses me softly. 

“If you’re ready, I’m gonna stick it in you,” she says, one hand wrapped around the base of the dildo. 

I nod surely and widen my legs, and soon enough she sinks inside me and disappears completely. My mouth falls open - it’s thicker than what I’m used to - and I grip her shoulders for support. I blink hard, take in a deep breath so my chest puffs out, and she adjusts herself on top of me. 

“All good?” she says. 

“Yeah,” I squelch. “Yeah… just give me a second.” 

She kisses my neck while I get used to the feeling of a dildo all the way inside me, and I let my arms fall loose and lazy around her waist. When I lift my hips to encourage her to move, she gets the hint right away and starts pumping, slow and steady to start out. 

“Mmm…” I whine, almost instantly. The sound disappears into her mouth as our lips are still connected, and one of her hands tightens its grip on my breast. She pinches the nipple and my mouth falls open, neck arching so she has a new place to put her mouth. “Oh, god,” I moan. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it, babe?” she says, still rocking her pelvis. “You like all that dick in you?” 

My face pinches as she hits something electric inside me, and I let my nails dig in to either of her sides. They’re sharp, but that doesn’t even cross my mind. All I’m thinking about is how she makes me feel, and the amazing things my body is capable of when manipulated by a woman who knows what she’s doing. 

“Yeah,” I answer, just barely. “You feel so, so good… oh, my god...” 

She bites the slope of my neck and pumps her hips harder, a concentrated expression on her face. She grips my breast tighter which makes my mouth fall open, then buries her face in my neck again while pressing her body as close as possible to mine. 

“Lay down,” she says. “On your back.” 

I don’t waste time. I lie flat on the couch and open my legs for her, one knee bent against the cushion and the other relaxed so my foot touches the carpet. She crawls on top of me and licks my core slowly, which is a surprise. She keeps my thighs spread with both hands and devours me with her eyes closed, nudging my clit with her tongue while rubbing my outer lips with her thumbs. Almost like she’s in a hurry, though, she lifts her face, positions the dildo, and pushes inside me again. 

When she leans forward, overlaps my body and kisses me, I taste myself. 

I hold her head while she slams into me, eventually moving my grip lower to take two handfuls of her ass and force her hips upward, at an angle. I know how to hit it within myself, and I know how to get there. Once she copies that movement, I’m done for in a matter of moments, and I start to come while we’re all wrapped up in each other. 

“Fuck!” I exclaim, tossing my head to the side and panting heavily. 

She doesn’t let me rest while I’m having my orgasm, though, she keeps kissing me and moving her hips until I’m spent and wide open before her. 

“You’re so perfect,” she says, opening her mouth wide on my stomach that’s coated in a fine layer of sweat. “God… I could just… mmm.” 

I laugh breathily, both arms thrown over my head to rest on the pillow. With my eyes closed, I can’t help but jump when I feel her mouth on my core yet again.

“Mmm…” I moan, but push her away by the forehead. “Isn’t it your turn?” 

She laughs, breath tumbling over my throbbing center. “It doesn’t have to work like that,” she says. “Just let me make you come again, babe.” 

“I wanna do you,” I say, sitting up on my knees. I stare at the dildo that’s still strapped to her and make a bold move - I reach out and grab it. It’s still slick with what came from me, so I use that to my advantage and start stroking it. She looks at me with wide eyes, wondering what I’m doing, then gasps when I bend in half and take it in my mouth, head bobbing.

“Christ, April,” she says. 

I know how to give a blowjob; I’ve given Jackson his fair share over the course of the years. He’s not exactly easy to get an orgasm out of, but I got good at it. I’m fully aware that Amelia doesn’t have any sensation in this dick, but I figured the action might be hot for a second.

It’s weird, not feeling the human heat come from it or tasting the familiarity of Jackson’s come, as weird as that is. It feels foreign and strange in my mouth, so I don’t concentrate on it for long. Instead, I unfasten it and settle between her legs, mouth wide open and ready to make her feel good. 

She watches me with interest and arousal, one hand threaded through my hair and the other gripping the breast that I’m not. She moves less than I do but makes way more sounds - sighs, breaths, whimpers - it’s not hard to figure out when I’m doing something right. And when I make her come, a huge feeling of accomplishment washes through me as I kiss her thighs and run my hands over her flat stomach. She takes my wrists when they get close and lifts them to kiss my palms slowly, squeezing my shoulders with her knees as she does. 

I rest the side of my head against her leg for a moment, just watching her. Then, I crawl forward and rest my body completely on top of hers, nestled close and cuddled around her. She freezes for a moment before wrapping her arms around the small of my back and kissing my face repeatedly, all over. 

My heart thumps loud in my chest, heavy and persistent. There’s something I need to say, and I need to get it off my chest before it suffocates me. It’s a new thought, but it’s one that won’t wait. 

“Amelia,” I whisper, tracing shapes on her shoulder. “I think I have feelings for you.” 

She tenses beneath me, which is worrisome. It takes her a while to respond - so long, I think she might stay quiet and not give me anything at all. 

“No, you don’t,” she says, a laugh in her voice. 

“I do, though,” I insist. 

“You don’t,” she says, trailing her fingernails down my back in a way that sends chills all over my body. “It’s normal to feel that way after sex, trust me. You don’t have much experience with that, but… yeah. Don’t worry. That feeling will fade.” 

“It’s not like that,” I say. “It’s not ‘a feeling.’ They’re  _ feelings _ . For you.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “You don’t wanna feel like that about me. Trust me on that one.”

I don’t put up more of a fight. Instead, I just press my forehead against her neck and think, very loudly,  _ Yes. I do _ . 


End file.
